


Just Like a Paperback Novel (Complete with Country Break-Up Songs)

by ScotlandEvander



Series: Don't Ever Change [13]
Category: Actor RPF, Benedict Cumberbatch Fandom, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston Fandom
Genre: Business Adventures, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Moving On, Tom Gets Ideas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-27
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 09:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/860389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScotlandEvander/pseuds/ScotlandEvander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Please, stop her,” David begged. “It’s like she’s in high school all over again. We’ve been cannonaded to the same five songs for a fortnight!”</p>
<p>Pamela blinked. “You’re one of them, too!”</p>
<p>“He likes archaic words,” Door grumbled. “Fine. I’ll stop. But, if you bad mouth my need for country music again, I’ll cut you do bad you won’t know what cut you so bad.”</p>
<p>Door made a menacing face (which looked ridiculous with the oversized sunglasses sliding down her nose) and turned heel and walked off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Like a Paperback Novel (Complete with Country Break-Up Songs)

A/N: “You’ll Think of Me” was written by Darrell Brown, Dennis Matkosky, and Ty Lacy.

OoOoOoOoOoO

_Pamela_

Pamela woke to a face full of Basil Bea Dog.

“Oh, you’ve got horrible breath. Get off,” Pamela groaned, waving her hands around blindly in an attempt to get the over zealous dog off.

Pamela was not a dog person, but she didn’t mind Basil Bea. The dog, when not barking her head off at things outside the tiny world of the hotel room, was a great dog. A little depressed and lost at the moment, but still a great all around dog. Not that Pamela knew a lot about dogs, Basil Bea being the only dog Pamela’s had much contact with over the long term.

Basil collapsed next to Pamela on the bed, sending fur all over the place. Or hair. Basil didn’t really have the typical dog fur. It was silky, smooth and rather hair like in texture. The dog simply had a TON of it and seemed to be going for bald.

Basil nudged Pamela’s hand with her head a few times till Pamela gave in and pet the tiny cranium, right behind her floppy ears. Basil liked to be scratched behind the ears and went completely boneless till Pamela shifted to sit up. Basil tumbled off the bed, spun in a circle and made several strange noises Pamela had learned meant, “TAKE ME OUTSIDE! FEED ME!”

In that order.

Seeing the upheaval the poor thing had in her life in the past month, Pamela tried to stick to the schedule Door kept with the mutt. This aspect of Basil’s stay with Pamela the dog had no issue with as Basil Bea was more than happy to be taken outside and fed on her usual schedule. 

“Okay, we’ll go outside. You wanna go outside?”

This got an instant reaction. Basil tore out of the bedroom, having forgotten the fake wood flooring in the rest of the suite and Pamela tried hard not to laugh at the noise Basil made as she attempted to run across the slippery surface.

“You are a moron. You do this every morning,” Pamela chided the dog, walking out into the living room. Basil was seated by the door, tail wagging up a storm and swishing back and forth on the floor. “Well, this is the last morning we’ll do this, BB. Door's on her way here to get you and take you away in that monstrosity sitting in the parking lot Jason left here last week.”

The dog’s ears drooped at the sound of her former owner's name.

Pamela knew that it was logical for Jason to give Door the dog. Door was the one who wanted the dog, Door was the one who took care of the mutt and who spent the most time with the animal. And yet, the dog clearly wasn’t a huge Door fan. She was a Jason fan through and through. Jason, though, did not really have the time to care for a dog due to the nature of his job. (Pamela knew this, as she did not have time to care for Basil Bea since Jason had shackled her with the dog. Poor thing spent most of her life in her crate.)

Door had all the time in the world and support system to deal with the slightly adorable, yet idiotic, animal.

(Pamela was loath to admit, she’d miss the mutt after she went on her way north.)

Pamela got the leash around the over zealous dog’s tiny head and managed to get them both out of the room without dislocating her thumb (something Pamela had been warned might happen as it seemed since the last time she’d cared for Basil Bea the dog discovered a liking for walking). The pair headed down the stairs, Basil’s nose to the pavement in her never ending search for whatever she was looking for. They followed their usual path, which led them passed the jammed packed 4Runner— prepped and primed for its long trip north to Chicagoland. Pamela silently admitted to herself it was rather nice of Jason to give Door the 4Runner instead of leaving her stranded without a car. He’d gotten some sort of cheap car that Door would have never allowed him to buy in a million years and seemed happy enough.

Jason had shown up about a week after he’d first dumped Basil and Door’s sewing things on Pamela with the rest of Door’s stuff that had been in Del Rio. He seemed more sure of himself and hadn’t brought Kirsten with him, but someone Pamela didn’t know. He introduced himself as Mike Hill, fellow Laughlin IP. The guy was a happy, rather comical man and made the whole awkward situation less stressful.

Before he left, Jason had handed Pamela a packet of papers and a note to give Door when she found the time to come get the car.

“Make sure to tell her that I am going to continue paying for the 4Runner till it’s paid off. When that happens, I’ll gift it to her and she can get Illinois plates. And until she gets on her feet and can afford health insurance her dad make her get, we’ll just be formerly separated and she'll still be covered under me."

“You know you ought to explain this to her.”

“I have,” Jason had said, looking tired. “I’m not sure she heard me, but if you tell her I think it’ll sink in. Like it’ll be real or something. I’m not sure. I don’t…I don’t really know Door.”

The statement seemed to surprise Jason, but he shrugged and reverted back into Normal Jason, Introspective Jason having gone back to where ever he usually resided.

Pamela had no clue how this kind of thing worked, so she didn’t ask Jason any further questions. She mostly wanted him out of her sight.

* * *

“Did you make it to…uh, France? Nice? Or Can something.”

“ _Nees_ , yes. And the event is called the Cannes. I did make it. I’ve got a moment between the photo call and the premiere tonight. I wanted to hear your voice,” Tom said. “So, what are your plans for your day, ladybird?”

Pamela rolled her eyes, though a smile broke across her face. Tom was trying out various other ways of saying “darling” as he called everyone “darling.” So far, he favored “dove” and “cinnamon” for their historical roots. A few times he’d called her Sweet Chuck, which Pamela didn’t even want to ask where that’d come from. 

“Door and her brother are arriving this afternoon to drive the 4Runner to Chicago,” Pamela said. “They seemed to not have the problems you did finding a plane.”

“Or a train,” Tom reminded her. “I had to take a boat.”

“But, you still flew to, uh, _Nees_ ,” she said using the pronunciation he’d used, “didn’t you?”

“Yes and was met at the airport by photographers. Luckily, I had changed on the boat and was ready to go to the photo-call, which I was almost Ben late for.”

“Oh my,” Pamela laughed, knowing that meant Tom was almost embarrassingly late. “Have you spoke to Benedict?”

“I did. After I got back from Paris, I phoned him to see what was going on. I’d been a little out of touch with most people during my trips. He’s going into business with Door.”

"Yes. I heard that somewhere."

Tom chuckled. “Ben likes to be busy. I never did see him branching out into the fashion industry. And handbags at that.”

“Well, you do carry a bag often,” Pamela points out. “I’m sure Benedict does as well. And when she’s not using lurid colors, they’re kind of nice. Fucntional.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve yet to be gifted with a non-bright orange bag.”

“She gave you an orange one?”

“Yes. It’s more lurid than the one you’ve got. Where she found leathered dyed this blinding shade of orange is a mystery I plan to solve. Then make sure it is all destroyed."

Pamela giggled as her phone beeped in her ear. She took it away to see Door had texted her.

“I hate to cut this short, but Door and her brother are here. I must load Basil Bea into the car. And that requires fighting to get her into her seat belt. I guess Door stopped making her wear one, but I refuse to have her in my car without one. It’s not safe.”

Tom made no comment, likely secretly hoping with the minuscule mean bone in his body for bodily harm to come to the dog.

“She’s honestly not that bad; are you Basil Bea?” Pamela cooed at the dog, who had put her head on her knee and was staring up at Pamela with big brown eyes. “You’re a good dog.”

Tom snorted. “Well, I’ll let you be on tour way. I must get ready for tonight’s premiere. I’m kind of excited. I love working with Tilda and the movie was…”

“Brilliant, I know, dear.”

She could feel Tom smiling over the phone lines at her use of an endearment. She turned bright red.

“Well, cinnamon, I’ll try to phone you tomorrow. I’ll be heading back to London. Hopefully on a plane one way.”

They said their goodbyes and Pamela commenced the battle to get Basil into her harness so she could use the seatbelt Pamela had gotten the mutt.

* * *

Pamela has never met David Judoc due to the fact when Door and Pamela had been in Del Rio together he’d out right refused to set foot in such a red state. Then, Door went off to another red state (Alaska) and David Judoc had appeared three times to play tourist.

“It’s Alaska!” he’d defended.

“What about Texas? She’s lonely now!” Door had shouted.

The following argument had been won by Door, clearly, as David Judoc was now standing in front of Pamela at the San Antonio International Airport.

“Hi,” he said in a low, smooth voice.

So low, Pamela was pretty sure he could make some money with that voice.

“Hi. Nice to finally meet you.”

They shook hands.

David and Door failed to look related, other than the out of control curly hair they both suffered in the Texas humidity. Door had yet to remove her sunglasses (Ray-Bans that looked much too large for her), but she didn’t need to for Pamela to know Door looked like she might have been adopted if Pamela didn’t know her mother had bright blue eyes and red hair.

David was dark haired and dark eyed.

The joy of regressive genes.

“Let’s hit it, people. We’ve got to get to Dallas before bedtime,” Door said, hitching up a HUGE leather bag over her shoulder.

“Is that a new design?” Pamela asked, eyeing the bag and wondering where David’s luggage was. Door had two huge bags plus a suitcase— all of which she was carrying for some unknown reason.

“Yeah. It’s the brain child of Cricket and Benedict,” Door said, sounding proud. She pushed the overly large sunglasses up her nose and smiled.

Pamela frowned at the use of Benedict’s full name. Door usually shortened his name, as did everyone else who knew the man except Pamela.

“Didn’t I tell you? I did, right? Ben’s going to be my partner! He’s an investor and partner,” Door explained, dragging her suitcase behind her. “Davy, can’t you at least take your freaking bag?”

“It’s purple.”

“It’s dark plum and so dark it’s almost black. Take it, you mewing quim,” Door ordered, shoving one of the bags at David.

David snatched the bag, which wasn’t leather but it was still clearly purple and a Cricket design. He scowled deeply at his sister, who smiled sweetly and said in a sing song voice, “So take your records, take your freedom, take your memories I don’t need ‘em!”

“STOP!”

“Take your space and all your reasons!” Door sung out, using an all out country twang. “But you’ll think of me!”

“Please, stop her,” David begged. “It’s like she’s in high school all over again. We’ve been cannonaded to the same five songs for a fortnight!”

Pamela blinked. “You’re one of them, too!”

“He likes archaic words,” Door grumbled. “Fine. I’ll stop. But, if you bad mouth my need for country music again, I’ll cut you do bad you won’t know what cut you so bad.”

Door made a menacing face (which looked ridiculous with the oversized sunglasses sliding down her nose) and turned heel and walked off.

“It’s not as bad as the orange thing she gave me,” Pamela offered, motioning to the bag on David’s shoulder.

Door scoffed. “That bag is notorious. Everyone adores it.”

“Only because Loki carried it for some unknown reason,” David grumbled. “Let’s go. I can’t wait to gun that stupid 4Runner into the ground.”

“Hey, it’s my stupid 4Runner and you will not kill the transmission!”

The two siblings began to squabble and continued until Door heard Basil barking.

“Basil!”

Door dropped her bags and dashed towards Pamela’s Jetta. Pamela unlocked the doors and Door threw herself at her dog. Pamela and David grabbed up the discarded bags and put them in the trunk while Door and Basil got reacquainted with one another.

* * *

“You sure you don’t just want to crash here for the night?” Pamela asked after they’d crammed the remaining things into the 4Runner that had been in the hotel room along with the bags Door had brought along.

“Yeah. We’ve got reservations at a hotel in Dallas. Then we’ll head to St. Louis. Can’t let Davy miss more than one day of work,” Door said as David rolled his eyes.

“It was nice finally meeting you,” David said, nodding his head to her as he got into the 4Runner.

“Yeah, you too.” Pamela turned her attention to Door. “You okay?”

Door regarded Pamela for a moment and smiled a sad little smile. “Yeah. I will be. Just a few more days of sad country break-up songs and I’ll move onto the angry music. Plus, Ben’s helping a lot…you know, supporting this insane idea of actually starting my own label and not just doing it like I’ve been the past four years. You know, half assed. I mean, I left my mom to sew at least twenty bags this weekend as I reopened Cricket Heidi Designs and am having a going out of business sale. I’ll have a ton of trips to the post office this week in my future.”

“Why is your mom making bags if you’re going out of business?”

“Because I’m still catching up on the orders I had taken before I fled the country. Cricket Heidi Designs is going out of business, but not till after Ben and I meet and iron out the final details. Sherlock’s wrapped for the summer and Ben’s going to come to Chicago after visiting the Queen.”

“He’s going to see the Queen?” Pamela asked, bewildered.

Door shrugged. “Some sort of garden party. Quite British. I was just going to fly my butt to London, but since I went and got all my business crap together for Du Page and Illinois, Ben said he’d just come to me. His people, because he has people, put him in contact with lawyers and people who know the dillio. So, hopefully I’ll see you again. You’re going to Enid right?”

Pamela stared at her friend for a moment, slowly catching up with the whirlwind of information Door had just dumped forth of her mouth.

“Yeah. Vance. They changed it while you were in London,” Pamela said, raking a hand through her hair.

Door lowered her face, her glasses falling down reveal a look of envy at Pamela’s hopelessly straight hair.

“Well, might be easier to get back and forth between OKC and London than here and London,” Door offered, pushing the oversized shades back up her nose as David honked the horn. “I guess I gotta go. I’ll try to come visit you in Enid.”

Door threw her arms around Pamela, giving her a rather sweaty, hair filled hug before she dashed off for the 4Runner, leaping into the passenger side. David honked again (this time three little taps) and off they went.

When Pamela got back to her room, it was almost depressing to be greeted by an empty, yet organized room.

OoOoOoOoOoO

* * *

OoOoOoOoOoO

_Tom_

“Something is different about you.”

Tom glanced over at Tilda Swinton as they posed for pictures on the red carpet. She smiled a very small smile, her eyes sweeping over Tom’s form.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Tilda gave him a mysterious smile, squeezing his hand as they stood on the stairs along with their fellow actors in the film. Camera flashes went off all over the place in an ongoing battle for best shot. Tom had been smiling all day so much he was glad he smiled as much as he did. At least he smiled often so he had strong cheek muscles.

“You’ve got that light in your eye,” Tilda whispered in his ear, still wearing her mysterious smile for the camera. “It’s a good look for you.”

She turned her attention forwards and waved at the crowd with her free hand.

Tom smiled larger and held his hand up.

“You better keep that light,” Tilda laughed as they were shuffled about for more photo ops. She squeezed his hand, a little hard. “Don’t loose it.”

“Fortune will not play me for a fool,” Tom informed her.

She smiled.

* * *

Tom woke up the next morning in a hotel room in Nice, France. He sighed, rolling over in the overly pillowed hotel bed and wondered what had woken him up. He only had one thing that was pressing he had to do whilst in town and he’d done it all yesterday. Today he was supposed to enjoy the rest of the festival— which to Tom was going home. He had prep to do for the Shakespearean play he was going to do in the winter. Luke had made the announcement and and the promotional photographs were to be released soon. Tom was actually quite excited as he was working with a bunch of great people, including Mark Gatiss, besides the fact he was doing Shakespeare again. 

“Your phone, sir, it rings,” Tom muttered to himself finally realizing what had woken him up.

He pushed the heavenly duvet off of his body and searched for the phone as it blasted _Sherlock’s_ theme song (yeah, he was one of those people who assigned people ringtones). He found the object on the coffee table. Sinking onto the couch he flicked the screen to see Ben had texted, not phoned. Texts Tom could deal with before coffee.

_Door did not do this, but she does approve. Except you’re not allowed to be the next Doctor. She’s made that quite clear._

Frowning, Tom went into the text menu and enlarged a photo of him from the day before in his blue suit. It took his sleepy mind a few minutes to figure out why Ben had sent him this picture out of the millions likely floating around. Tom caught sight (finally) of a white square that was not on the actual suit jacket. Holding the phone closer to his face, Tom read the writing on the square and burst out laughing.

**_I’m the police box, brilliant._ **

_Like that didn’t occur to you when you picked that lurid suit out. You should have known the Who fans would latch onto that and turn you into the TARDIS._

**_It is not lurid, Cumberbatch. It’s stylish. I assume Door likes it?_ **

_You’re in it. Of course she likes it._

**_She likes me for my acting, not my style._ **

_You have no style._

**_Says you. The world has another opinion._ **

_Idiot._

**_Mewing quim._ **

_Get a new insult, Loki._

**_You first, Sherlock._ **

_That suit will forever be known as your TARDIS suit, you do know that, correct?_

**_Maybe it’ll help my chances as being the next Doctor?_ **

_No. Remember? You’re not allowed to be the next Doctor._

**_Just because you no longer wish to do TV, doesn’t mean I’d pass up the chance to play the Doctor._ **

_You’re too well known. They tend to cast unknowns, haven’t you noticed? Also, aren’t you busy for the next ten years?_

**_No, good sir, that would be you._ **

_Currently not busy. I’ve got a bit of time to myself._

**_How are you still alive?_ **

_That, good sir, I am not sure. I must find at least twenty different things to do at once or I might keel over._

**_Good Lord, you’re serious, aren’t you?_ **

_Of course, though, I’m Benedict, not Sirius._

Tom chuckled.

_Well, I must dash. Just wanted to tell you that was not Door. Tragcially. She did do this…_

Another image popped in, one Tom had seen but it’d been reworked to make him look like something magical, mystical and other worldly.

Tom couldn’t help it.

He broke out into loud laughter.

* * *

**Just Like a Paperback Novel…I’ll Get to the Plot Someday**

**‘Allo blog readers! I just wanted to let y’all know there’s a TON going on in my life right now. I’ve moved (yet again, I’m a total moving machine, ya know?) and I’m relaunching my label— or launching a new label. Due to all you wonderful people who’ve been brought here by the likes of Tom Hiddleston and his Glorious Purse of Orangieness and Mark Gatiss showing the wider world Sherlock’s penguin filled head, I’ve got fans!**

**I’ve got a following!**

**I’ve outgrown Etsy (sorry, dudes, but you’re just not working for me no more)!**

**So, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m having a going out of business sale! All purses will be shipped by 6 May 2013. After that, the shop will be closed until I get all the legal mumbojumbo together and we relaunch (and there is a we involved. I’m not alone any more!!!!)**

**Don’t worry, I’ll still keep writing about my cray-cray life and be vague and frustrating on the re-launch. (I’m totally excited. It’s actually hard not to shout it from the roofs and plaster pictures of all the new purses.)**

**So, to all of you who bought a Cricket Heidi Design purse, maybe one day once I’m totally the next Coco Chanel or something it’ll be worth something?**

**The re-launch announcement will be posted here, on Twitter, on Facebook, and likely where ever else I can shout it from. So, watch out for it!**

**And just because I love y’all, here’s an image of Tom in his TARDIS suit looking, well, like Tom.**

**(IMG. EHEHEHE. JPG)**

**(OMG, I cannot believe I actually KNOW him…if this is a dream, please don’t wake me up.)**

***Mood* more chipper than I thought I’d be**

***Music* “Someday” by Nickleback (yes, I’m totally reliving my high school days…it’s what I do.)**

Tom shut the laptop and looked up at Ben who was busy trying to pack his suitcase for Chicago.

“So, what are you two calling your business again?”

“Benedict and Door,” Ben replied, pulling a box out from under his bed.

“Is she still sewing everything on her own?”

“Mostly. Her mother is a trained tailor I’ve discovered,” Ben says, looking somewhat shocked. “Went to design school and has a fashion degree.”

“So, I guess it’s in her veins,” Tom mused, eyeing the box Ben set on the bed.

“Yeah. Her mother did teach her to sew,” Ben said, opening the box up. “Door sent these. She’s been working on our designs for our first line.”

“OUR designs?”

“She makes me have a say,” Ben said, sighing a little as he extended a rather simple black bag out to Tom.

Tom stood up and took the bag, looking it over. It was made out of something that was heavier than cotton, but not as stiff as canvas. He fingered the leather accents around the top before flipping it open to study the interior of the satchel.

“This is nice,” Tom commented. “I do like the tag.”

The label inside consisted of a door, of course. It was a deep shade of aubergine, accented with lighter shades to show the detail. Across the middle in a rather elegant, yet orange font was Benedict & Door.

“She designed that herself. She’s rather…driven when she knows what to do,” Ben allowed, pulling out another bag. This was smaller and looked more like a women’s handbag. Ben yanked out an even larger bag, in a rusted brown leather. “Door said this is carry-on luggage. She gave one to her brother to use when they went to get her belongings from San Antonio, only I guess his was dark aubergine. He did not like that.”

“Of course not. At least it wasn’t blindingly orange,” Tom remarked. He gazed into the box to find it filled with bags in an array of quite normal shades. Tom picked up one in red wine. “Is this the entire line?”

Ben nodded. “Yeah. She’s been a little worker bee since I got back from New York.”

Ben tossed the bags he had gotten out back into the box and handed the whole thing to Tom, who took it stumbling backwards a little under the surprising weight.

“Now I’ve got the Queen’s Garden Party tomorrow and then I’m going to go to Chicago before heading to Greece,” Ben said, picking up the discarded shirts and stuffing them into his case.

“Greece?”

“I’ve got to do some Sherlock promotion. Martin’s busy in New Zealand, so it’s mostly up to me and Sue,” Ben explained. “Door didn’t really explain what she wanted you to do with these, but she said to give the box to you. I believe they are all normal shades to make up for the orange bag fiasco…”

“What am I to do with all these? Some of them are girly.”

“You have sisters, correct?” Ben asked, leveling Tom a look. “I don’t know. She just said here look at the bags, pick out what you like, then give the rest to Tom. I’ve looked, now, I’m giving it to you.”

Tom stared down into the half open box in his arms.

“Well, the best way to get your label to be popular— stick them on celebrities. I know some,” Tom assured, looking up at Ben with a huge grin. Ben appeared slightly alarmed. “I’ll wait till you announce your big reveal, then hand them out to some of our more well known friends. I mean, what woman can turn down a free handbag?”

“Well, okay,” Ben allowed. He raked a hand through his hair, making it look crazy.

“Brilliant. Business cards?”

“In the box. Seeing Door’s done most of this before, she’s gotten everything on that end in order. Mostly what we need is advertising, legal and other confusing things,” Ben said, walking to his wardrobe and grabbing some folded up trousers. “Karon put us in contact with the right people, so everything should be sorted before I go to Greece. It’s a small label, so…I’m so out of my league.”

Ben turned around, looking as if he was realizing for the first time he was in over his head. He dropped the trousers and grabbed at his hair, making him look like a frazzled professor.

“Oh, it’ll be fine. People do this thing all the time,” Tom assured.

“Yeah, but they have an army of people behind them. Door and her mother are currently the entire production line.”

“Well, you hired a business manager, correct?”

Ben nodded. “Her brother knew someone who was looking to get into something like this. Not the fashion world, but a small business.”

Tom gave Ben a knowing smile. “I doubt it’ll remain small.”

Ben sighed, nodding his head in agreement.

“I don’t know what to really tell you. I don’t have any experience in this sort of thing,” Tom admitted. 

“I know. I’m just…”

“Trying to work yourself to death?” Tom teased. He set the box on the chair he’d been sitting on earlier. He crossed the room to where Ben stood next to the wardrobe. He placed a comforting hand on Ben’s shoulder and smiled. “Don’t die. What would Door do without you?”

“Run out of money?”

Tom gave Ben a look.

“I know, I know. She depends on me for more than a check,” Ben assured, then slumped a little. “Karon told me I was an idiot for doing this without consulting her first.”

“But, she still went about putting you in contact with the right people, didn’t she?”

Ben nodded.

“I doubt he’d want you to fail. You failing reflects badly on her. And think of it this way, at some point she’ll simply be designing and not sewing all the bags on her own,” Tom offered. “Unless you fall from favor suddenly. I do not see this happening. Your villain is quite popular. Granted, not Loki caliber, but he’s not exactly Voldemort.”

“I’ve got a nose, I know,” Ben muttered.

* * *

A few days later, Tom stared at the box of handbags. He scratched his head, then dialed his phone.

“LUKE! My favorite person!”

Luke sighed. “What do you want Tom? I’m only your favorite person in that manner when you need something.”

“Oh, darling, come now. You are my favorite person.”

“I doubt it. I’m pretty sure Pamela is your favorite person.”

“Ah, caught me,” Tom laughed. “Let’s try this again.”

Luke chuckled.

“Luke, my favorite publicist and friend!”

“Okay, I’ll accept that. Now, what do you want?”

“A photographer.”

“Pardon?”


End file.
